Freeman and Jackson watched in silence. Stillness filled the air. Straker sitting there, head bowed, hands lying open on his lap, the odd twitch of shoulders and spine the only sign of movement as his subconscious fought to keep him upright, dark stains on his shirt, sweat stiffening his light blonde hair and in front of him in a hole in the ground, a parcel wrapped in dark paper. The smell of brandy wafted across the clearing and the two watchers looked at each other, perplexed. Continue reading →